You Are Only You

[Teratogen]

You Are Only You

Angry like the wind
Stings of pain resound
Holding from within
Let us now begin
Everything is found
Your hate is so thin

Learning from the beauty of your heart
Only things that won’t ever depart
Viciousness cannot destroy my smile
Even with the power of denial

Always trying to
Stand your solid ground
How can you undo
Love that’s breaking through?
Everything unwound
You are only you

Like hopeful stars glimmering with light
Over the dark landscape of the night
Vested by the tranquil sky I know
Earning all the love you may bestow

Acceptance with pride
Steadfast you are bound
Happiness inside
Longing to provide
Everything around
Your love is so wide

[Alsiony]

Hi Tera,

I really like some parts of this.

This line is key (to me anyhows )

Viciousness cannot destroy my smile

Best Wishes

A
x

[Teratogen]

It's to suggest that with whatever hatred or malevolence she may feel towards me it's not going to change how much I care for her. Even if she wants to deny me the pleasure of it. Her hate is too thin anyhow. I know it's not in her heart.

[Violet]

Dear Teratogen,

It could be you arrived at a place where you need to think about whether this person is worthy of your love. It sounds like all the difficulties you've been having with this person have certainly helped you to fathom the resilient, beautiful and constant nature of your own heart. But it may be time to consider something else that's possibly at work here. Perhaps there is someone from your past.. a parent, perhaps.. or someone else very close to you from whom you could never get the love you so needed and wanted.. or whose love fell far short of what your child self, say, truly needed and and wanted and deserved.. and so it could be that you are revisiting this terrain through this person.. and trying to rectify something that cannot be rectified in this way.

It is a hardship indeed, but sometimes the only way to heal such things is to mourn our losses, and find a way to honor and love ourselves.. our own inner beauty.. This is a far less desirable or tempting thing to do than to seek such acceptance in another.. and yet.. it may be the only way we have to truly heal such early travesties committed against our hearts.. knowing that whatever this woman might have caused you (and still is causing you) in the way of pain, it might only be a shadow of the very deepest hurt that you already know, even unconsciously, from some prior time. And so, in order to heal, you may have to let go now.. and face the pain.. and find a way to carry on that truly honors your wonderful heart.. the heart that writes these poems of such dire pain, while clinging still to this person who is hurting you.. Of course, you may not be ready to do this just yet.. but I thought to lay that out for you, since some day it may be time to consider doing this, as difficult a thing as it is to do.. and you may want some manner of therapist helping you with this too, since it's rather difficult and painful stuff to have to wade through alone..

I hope this of help to you, if not now, then some day,

with love and care,
v i o l e t

[Teratogen]

Violet, I am no stranger to psychology, understanding Freud's analysis methods of suggesting our emotions as adults are reflective of how our parents treated us as children. Yes, my mother left me when I was 6. Yes, I struggled for years wondering why. Yes, I felt that in some way I had something to do with it. Yes, I subconsciously thought I was no good for any woman if I was no good for my own mother. I never gave myself a chance before and I always let myself fail because I expected to fail. But I am not someone who is going to let some outside force that is no longer a part of my life control the way I live my life.

When I read the first sentence you wrote I knew that time had already come and gone when I began thinking about whether or not this person is worthy of my love. I believe 100% that she is. She is worth whatever pain I'm experiencing. She's not perfect, she's no angel, she may not even be attractive to some people, but to me she is important, because whether or not she realizes, she helped me to see in myself that I was good enough too.

I understand you're trying to help, and I thank you. You are very kind and sincere. I'm going to handle this my way. If it blows up in my face then I'm not blaming anyone but myself. And there's no way I'm seeing a therapist. The only reason I would would just be to have someone to talk to, but I can manage with that elsewhere.

[Violet]

Hi Teratogen,

Writing a post such as the one I just did is always tricky, as I don't know you, and don't know what your experiences have been, etc.. only what you've chosen to share with us here. It sounds like you've been through a great deal, both as a child, and in trying to come to terms with what's happened to you..

It's true, we must each find our own way through these things, and I don't at all feel that I possess the answers.. just some possibilities to be considered or rejected, as you see fit..

I wish you well with all of this.. and much happiness in your future,
v i o l e t

[jabble524]

Good poem. Very passionate. It's ironic how romance has a way of awakening the subconscious.

[Teratogen]

Violet, I hope you did not take offense to my response. I am aware that you are trying to help with suggestions and I thank you for your care and concern. I really do. I understand that it's tricky to even say such things because you don't really know who I am. Believe me, I've been on that end too.

Sometimes I think it sounds like I've had a rough life but I've never thought that. I think back on all the loneliness and doubt I've experienced in my life, and yeah, it seems like way too much for one person. But not once has it ever overwhelmed to the point where I just feel like giving up. Wait, scratch that... the summation of loneliness and doubt for most of my life HAS indeed overwhelmed me to the point where I just feel like giving up. BUT... I never do. Sure, I may continue living the vicious cycle of believing in my failure and then subconsciously carrying it out as a self-fulfilling prophecy. But awareness is key. I am only human, and so are the people who have abandoned me. The more I can learn about myself maybe the more disgusted I might be, but the more knowledge I obtain about myself and about others the better I can make decisions to make repairs where necessary. It's easy to say such things, but I don't ever deny possibilities.

Thank you for your comment, jabble. Funny thing is though that everyone has yet to point out the obvious of this poem.

[Violet]

Hi again, T.,

I didn't take offense.. I know that this is just terribly difficult stuff for each and every one of us to varying degrees.. believe me, I wouldn't have such advice if I didn't know from whence I speak..

I guess I have moments of self disgust too.. but.. well, I think it best if we try to be gentle when we look upon ourselves, our inner child selves, especially, and see all the hurt there.. and yes, our parents all carry and carried such hurts too.. unfortunately when we were children we had no ability to gauge that sad fact, and just as you said, a child winds up blaming him/herself for their parents harmful behavior.. and so these are the wounds we're left grappling with as adults.. but I don't think any of us have found a way to do this exactly right or anything.. I mean, I'm not sure life is like that.. it's actually more of a mess, I think.. or (as I've been feeling lately) it can be rather like a slow motion car wreck..

Still.. there are moments of grace, I think.. when the world and the self seem at peace somehow.. (thank heaven).. like when a baby smiles at you, maybe.. or when someone offers you an unexpected kindness..

.. anyway, it can't be a bad thing to talk about such things from time to time, and in connection to poetry too, which has always helped me to work through the most difficult feelings.. I'll try to think more in terms of the specifics of your poetry next time.. but for now.. I'm wanted on another thread.. and then.. to bed..

my very best wishes, and be well,
v i o l e t

[imaginary friend]

Hi Tera,

Lately I've been reading back through your poems. I haven't commented before – haven't felt comfortable to do so – because it's been a very long time since I've felt anything close to that all-encompassing, all-informing love you describe.

In browsing through your previous poems though, I came across an excerpt from the letter you wrote to your ex, where, in the section starting:

Do you know what I love about you?

I fell for that girl that you conjured up with your words, right alongside of you; totally 'saw' how dear she was to you, how thoroughly you addressed every detail about her, how lovingly you saw her, flaws and all.

IMO that essay/letter - whatever you call it – is the strongest piece of all you have written/posted here on the subject of heartache.

[Teratogen]

Thank you kindly. I feel I have always been effective with not necessarily my words, but how I convey my thoughts and emotions WITH words. I am not the greatest speaker, I don't speak how I write, but I feel how I write.

That piece on which you commented was an excerpt of a nine-page letter that I never sent her. It was three pages of something I had memorized and wanted to tell her. When I was never given that opportunity I turned into a nine-page letter I wanted to send but spent a few months stewing it over and decided that was not the best thing to do. However, she was not my ex. I never had the pleasure, or the honor, of being involved in a romantic relationship with her. She was a friend; someone I considered a very dear friend. Perhaps not as close as I wanted to be, but it was in my longing to be closer that caused a rift in our relationship and eventually led to her pushing me away. Means of contact have been compromised on her end and the form of a letter was my last resort to make some kind of contact with her. It came to be that my last resort was realized, but instead of sending the nine-page letter in which I poured my heart out I cut it to a one-page apology that I finely jotted in written form into a greeting card. I sent it out yesterday without a return address and I'm assuming it should reach her by Monday, if it reaches her at all. I don't know her apartment number so I'm hoping the mailman will do me the favor of remembering which mailbox matches her name at least. If it is presumed undeliverable there is no return address and it will be lost forever. Even if she gets it I don't know for certain that she'll read it. But it has come to that.

The story here has a plot that is too long and intense, so for brevity’s sake I can give the synopsis. Basically the issue has already been described here, but I’m at the point where the conclusion has arced. The way our friendship ended, without any sense of closure, has been causing me to live with grief and pain and uncertainty for two months. Most people have suggested that time will take care of me, citing the old adage that time heals all wounds. I’ll tell you, two months of thinking and wondering and doing plenty of both has caused me to come to several realizations and conclusions. One is that I’m never ever going to get over this. I may be able to continue with life, but from the moment I wake to the moment I attempt to sleep it’s with me. I can get accustomed to the burden of living with it, slowly beginning to regain my emotional faculties and become less lethargic and more productive and functioning, but it’s not going away. Another realization I came to understand was that the only real way I can be helped is to help myself, and in order to do that I think making contact is the only way.

I think time can help to heal some wounds. Time certainly has a way of hardening our minds and crystallizing thoughts and ideas. Some things require time, but some require action. I had to act. If she hated me, I could live with that. But as it stands now with the fact that she doesn’t want to speak to me and doesn’t seem to care only proves that she is harboring great apathy. I’d rather have someone I cared about hate me than not care about me. And if apathy is her defense mechanism then time is not on my side. Time will only allow her to convince herself even more that I am not needed in her life. I can’t have her living life thinking that.

So, action was required. And I struggled with what to do. Send her the letter, or send her the apology. I felt the apology was nobler, and I stripped from it any evidence of my feelings toward her. I figure the safest thing to do was to try to salvage whatever may be left of our friendship. I can live holding back and sparing her the burden of my feelings just for the sake of being her friend, because as it stands now I’m having a hard time living just being without her. It may not even work, but it’s worth the attempt. She may not even forgive me, but I think the act itself is my way of forgiving myself.

Besides this poem, which came to me rather quickly, the one I wrote before this is one that I am really proud of, called “The Mercy of Your Will.” It took me nearly a week to write. I’m no Leonard Cohen in my craftsmanship but it’s a good summary of what I’ve been thinking and feeling the last few weeks at least. Also the first one I wrote just a few days after this incident began is another one I’m terribly proud of, even though it’s rather grim. It’s the one called “Engulfed” and it was based off a comment made by a mutual friend of hers and mine. He said she was like fire. That was it for me. Just that one little description set off some lines that I built upon. Anyway, that’s the gist of it right now. If I don’t hear from her after Monday I’m just going to try my hardest to make peace with the situation and attempt to live life accordingly.

[Violet]

Hi T., hi I.F.,

I’ve been looking for that letter of yours, T., what was the title of the thread? I remember reading it, and feeling very moved by it.. I wanted to say something then, but I waited..

I hope you don’t mind, I thought I’d post a poem of mine (below) that deals with similar feelings..

It seems that when the beloved is closed to us, so many questions arise.. what exactly is Love, even?.. is it a substance we send out into the universe?.. does it have any meaning if the object of our love has barred us from loving them?..

.. such a conundrum seems to draw out larger, wider implications.. There is love in the more personal “self”-ish sense.. and there is that greater love that hopefully we can draw strength from when this more personal love goes awry.. In being barred from loving the beloved, one in sense becomes a kind of nun or monk of love.. spiritually dwelling alone.. as one humbly and dutifully makes offerings unto the stratosphere almost.. Here is my love.. is it good enough?.. is it at all helpful?.. does it mean anything, in and of itself?.. and if not, how to explain such enormity of feeling?

I want to believe that all love does mean something.. it can be a kind of mirror, almost.. you see yourself in a way you normally don’t.. How very beautiful the heart is when it’s so wholly devoted to something or someone.. How shimmering.. How divine..

.. so.. maybe it’s not just a lesson in the harshness of our childhoods, when love goes awry.. maybe the depth of such love, founded on much pain, to be sure, also arises in us so that we may see ourselves in this elevated way.. In seeing our own divinity.. can we begin to divine a larger way of being in the world?.. Yes, we are in pain, for all that just cannot be.. but somehow we are wed to the universe in knowing and experiencing this shimmering dimension of God’s love, so wondrously housed within us..

.. I don’t know if any of this is a comfort to you.. If I were your beloved, and felt I could not love you in the way you loved me, I would hope I could help you in extending that greater dimension of love, and kindness, through communication and understanding.. I would hope I would offer you that, and be there in whatever way I could, even as I knew I was causing you pain.. This I believe is due you.. But life is seldom fair, and so you must work through these things for yourself, it seems. And it seems too you’ve been doing just that through your writing.. you’ve been continuing the conversation for yourself, which I believe to be healing.. There are shadows in love’s mirror too.. those wounds that come up again and again, as gradually, and in whatever way we are able, we work to recognize, and heal them..

.. how beautiful the boy who is so deeply wounded.. through no fault of his own.. can we take his side in this, not to accuse others, but to foster his strength, his inner beauty, and his worthiness?.. can we cry with him, and love him.. and go with him into the world, clasping his hand.. feeling both this child fear, and this slightly trembling strength, just newly coming into being?.. I don't pretend to understand healing.. I can only grasp for words I hope might help to heal.. not just for you, but for all of us here, all those reading this.. and for myself, too..


..here’s that poem.. maybe, in part, it speaks to that greater love I was speaking of.. the one that endures..


Love endures


I just wanted to say,
since I believe your love for me
is flip flopping
this way and that,
that my love for you endures;
it’s here for the taking,
or ignoring.
I’ve much to see and do. even as
I hurt for you,
I sing for you too, and laugh.
if you want my voice, you’ve only
to ask. if you want
my cries, you can ask
for them too.
I’ll not be through with
loving you. though I wish
the sky could have you know
these things; I wish
the world were enough to
contain your happiness.
but even in
your times of sadness,
especially then,
know this to be
true:
know I am here,
loving you.

v i o l e t

[imaginary friend]

V.,

That is a beautiful poem you offered to Tera.

Here's the thread with his letter:
viewtopic.php?f=11&t=19875

Tera, I admire how you've put your heart out there; both with your friend and with us. Keep on loving.

[Alsiony]

Hey Tera,

I am glad that you managed to reach a decision about what action to take. It is another very tough thing to do and I am sure you will be wondering about the communication you have sent ,for a while, I understand this also.

The very fact that you have managed to find some kinda outlet for what you have been experiencing recently, I feel is such a wonderful thing Jason. Much better than 'my private hell' that I described to you one time. Mind you, we each have to do things our own way. Although, having the ability to express yourself, as I myself couldn't in the past, I am sure does not eliminate the pain of the hell that you have been going through.

In translating your story against my own similar one ('tis ok by the way, because, no- I haven't been brought down by it all), these days I feel very 'rich' as a person for it. At the time I forced myself to stare it all right in the eye, so to speak. If I was going to deal with it properly- it had to all come out. It was very messy, but it also brought up a lot of other things from my past before that, which I found myself having to finally deal with properly too. And in meeting with some very disturbing horrors, I finally, one day, truly started to feel better than I had ever felt before.

Keep writing, never change that ( I am sure you won't). You are clearly a strong person, you really are. I do believe that you know this anyhows and that only serves to make it an even more wonderful thing.

Best Wishes (and I will not delete that one this time )

A
x

[Teratogen]

Violet, I read your response along with the poem early this afternoon, as I was getting ready for work. I knew I wanted to come home tonight to read it over once more to grasp everything you were saying. Then when I got to your poem and read it again it made me cry.

even as
I hurt for you,
I sing for you too, and laugh.
if you want my voice, you’ve only
to ask. if you want
my cries, you can ask
for them too.
I’ll not be through with
loving you. though I wish
the sky could have you know
these things; I wish
the world were enough to
contain your happiness.

I sing her praises daily and I hurt knowing she’s not with me. It seems odd to some that one can be happy and be sad for a person simultaneously, but it describes my head right now perfectly. And if only the sun and the clouds and the rain and the moon and the stars and the wind could speak those things for me… I know she has a kind of happiness in her that can’t be touched by the wickedness of the world because it is manifest between the beauty of her virtue and the love she harbors in her heart. It’s so vast and encompassing that it blows my mind. It just makes it that much harder to understand the depths of fear in which she hides.

I often ask myself questions, but never the one you asked, “What is love?” Only because I know what the answer is to me and yet I don’t know the answer at all. I don’t pretend to understand it. I just surrender to it. Sounds like a religious experience almost, and perhaps it is. Perhaps it is the most divine of its kind. I don’t believe there is a single kind of love, and I don’t believe anything in this world is above any kinds of love. It is most definitely a substance we send out into the world, but just as equally important it’s a substance from which we consume.

does it have any meaning if the object of our love has barred us from loving them?..

If a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it does it make a sound? My tree, the one that I nursed and tended to daily has collapsed. No one else was around to witness it, but I saw it fall. I heard its painful crash. Yes, it makes a sound. Yes, love has meaning. Even when the recipient denies it love has meaning.

If I were your beloved, and felt I could not love you in the way you loved me, I would hope I could help you in extending that greater dimension of love, and kindness, through communication and understanding.. I would hope I would offer you that, and be there in whatever way I could, even as I knew I was causing you pain.. This I believe is due you..

I will never believe that I am owed anything. Unrequited love is given and asks for nothing in return. Kindness, communication, understanding… even in its most miniscule form I do not expect any of it. I don’t even expect to be understood. I will go through hell, as Claire said, and not even expect to gain any knowledge from my journey. And then I’ll go back. I’ll witness the mirrors of my insecurities, stare them in face, relive all the horrors I can recall and create a mess of emotions I may not even want to piece together. The point is that I am willing to do it, maybe not just for the sake of doing it, but for the sake of proving to myself that I can. I can only hold onto a belief that someday someone somewhere will understand that, but I never expect anyone to.